‘It’s something I want to ask him. I could telephone him.’
‘He is going away. This—this business has upset him. I don’t think you could reach him,’ she said after a long silence.
I drank half the whisky, set down the glass and stood up.
‘It doesn’t matter. It isn’t all that important.’
She looked at me now, surprise in her eyes.
‘But can’t you tell me what it is?’
The day after your husband was kidnapped, Mr. Marshland called on the woman who said she was your secretary, Mary Jerome. The meeting took place at the Beach Hotel, where the woman was staying. I wanted to ask him what was said and how he knew she was there.’
‘My father?’
She stood so still she could have been a statue.
‘Yes. He gave his name to the hotel clerk, who would be able to identify him.’